But if, like Queequeg and me in the bed, the tip of your nose or the crown of your head be slightly chilled, why then, indeed in the general consciousness you feel most delightfully and unmistakably warm.

I save the window-opening ritual for Friday nights, after a long, tiring week, when the sweaters are all folded, and the shirts all ironed. Before I go to bed, I turn off the lights, square off my desk, and turn the window crank 220 degrees clockwise. Even though the thermostat is at 23°C, it’s anywhere from -16°C to 5°C outside these nights.

When I wake up at 5:00 a.m., as I usually do, my room is filled with the chilly, snow-smelling air.

I do this only once a week to appreciate it.

I do it on Fridays to enjoy it.

Here I am, in a cabin in the middle of the woods, 160 km away for two short days and a night in Tremblent. Today, we drove the winding roads lined with pine trees and settled in. By tomorrow morning, the 10 beds and mattresses are going to be filled with 16 people, all-round exhausted, cramming in as much sleep as they can before the hills open.

In between, Aaron finds a Bubbles action figure that looks just like Karen. Phil is dealt a royal flush, which we’ll probably never see again in our lives, during the second game of poker. For this, we drink, and I’m asked to make a print of the photo for everyone present to sign.

I’m not here to ski, or snowboard, or party, I’m just here to observe. Nick gave me the use of his lenses, including a 200mm prime L, but it was the 15mm fish-eye Sigma that I grew to love. How strange it is to be recording my memories with someone else’s glass.

This weekend it feels like I’m running. I’m looking for something, but I don’t know what it is or where to find it.

Sometimes, after pulling yourself out of bed instead of calling in late because there’s too much to do, when the walk to work is through ankle-deep snow which is coming down in sheets, you give up on avoiding the puddles because your socks are already soaked through after five minutes, you can barely keep your eyes open from the precipitation and the exhaustion, the cold is giving you a splitting headache, and the only thing keeping you stoic is to concentrate on the music in your ears but your iPod runs out of batteries and this is the start of your week, you have no other choice but to laugh.

Aaron and Karen’s annual New Years party was a fun time in a relaxing sense, much lower-key than last year, with fewer people and casual clothes. I don’t believe there was anyone who felt out-of-place, which meant that one could easily move from group to group without any feelings of intrusion. So that I didn’t have to worry about catching a bus home early, they lent me the use of their SUV for me to drive home.

I’m especially pleased with this set of photos. I think I was able to show the mood appropriately, without over-exposing the flash too much. My two favourite are with Sarah in her scarf and with Aaron handing the lowball to Rob. The former because of the pure chance that worked out in capturing the moment along with the wonderful texture of her scarf, and the latter because of how strong the two sets of hands look, like a firm handshake without touching.